Your Dog Tells Me Everything

What I learn when I watch you walk him...

When I first met Alice, she was standing in a dog park, laughing as her black Lab, Zeke, thrashed around in a mud puddle like a happy little piggy. "What can you do?" she shrugged, smiling. I knew right then that she'd be a good buddy who wouldn't mind if a friend sometimes got a little overexcited. And I was right. When I'm energetically telling a story, Alice never even blinks as my wineglass starts spilling its contents on her rug.

If you want a peek at someone's true character, watch her walk her dog. Anger issues? Self-esteem problems? Passive-aggressiveness? It all prances out like poodles on parade. I've made many friends and a few enemies while dog walking, and I've usually known what I was in for after one stroll.

I remember one woman at my park: She was comforting her aggressive Shepherd mix after he'd just attacked a sweet pooch for no reason. Oh, the world just doesn't understand her, I'm sure. Then there's the guy who yells "Sorry!" as his golden retriever takes out several kneecaps in a row. You know that fellow—he's dinged your finish with a careless whack from his car door in the grocery store parking lot. And how about the woman who seems so sweet to her Doberman...until you realize that she never lets the dog take two steps away without luring him back with treats? Needy! Control issues!

"Our relationship skills are what they are, no matter who we're using them with—human or dog," says Sarah Wilson, coauthor of My Smart Puppy. "If we're victims in other relationships, we'll be victims with our dogs. If we're angry, we'll be angry with our dogs."[pagebreak]I'd like to think that my Irish wolfhound, Sage, advertises my psychological maturity. But there's the small fact that she cheerfully ignores my commands until I lose my temper. "Oh boy, is that a classic," Wilson tells me. Many women have trouble simply declaring what they want from their dogs, she says—or from their spouses, children, or coworkers, for that matter. We worry about seeming—you should excuse the dog terminology—bitchy. Our tempers have to flare before we can say it like we mean it. (See what your anger style says about you.)

This is a lightbulb moment for me. I'm generally calm or direct—not both—when Sage fails to respond to my call or when my partner, Scott, "forgets" to put his dirty plate in the dishwasher. But if I can get Sage to listen before I start yelling, the lesson may leak over into the rest of my life. Wilson sees that kind of thing all the time in her dog-training classes: People learn to communicate better with their dogs, and their human relationships improve, too. "Men tend to praise more," she says. "Women learn to ask for what they want without getting angry."

After all, the basics of good canine communication are nothing if not transferable: Be clear about what you want. Reward good behavior; ignore bad. Be consistent.

Sage is responding nicely to the new me. This week, she even turned away from someone dispensing dog cookies to trot toward me when I called. I'm hoping for similar progress with Scott and his dirty dinner plate. I just have to apply the other lesson Wilson teaches in her classes: patience. Humans and old dogs can learn new tricks. But it takes humans longer. (Here's a start to better communication with your guy: 5 Ways To Be Heard.)

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